Posted in Photography, Poetry

My heart is a corridor



I cannot seem to walk past a door
lonely, in the pursuit of time
the wind’s impatient brush with forever

we stood in the hollow
bodies carved from sharpened rock
and painted yellow
the dim-lighted blackened space

You obviously see me
spared the chance of fading out
the rain washes our conscience clean.

3 thoughts on “My heart is a corridor

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